


Saved

by WolfstarGarden



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Drarry, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 05:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8736232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfstarGarden/pseuds/WolfstarGarden
Summary: When Harry runs into Draco Malfoy a few months after the Battle of Hogwarts, they both decide it's time to take care of their unfinished business.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UpTheHill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UpTheHill/gifts).



> I've given in to Drarry thanks to Tom Felton and the simply marvellous work of UpTheHill.
> 
> I just wanted to publish, so please excuse the lamentable editing.

**1998\. Christmas. Diagon Alley. Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occassions.**

Harry had been putting off getting new day robes for months. He had his trainee robes for the Auror office, and was so used to muggle clothing and its simple practicality that he just hadn’t seen the point of buying new robes, even though all of his school ones had long since worn out or gotten too short.

But the constant hen-pecking from Molly, Ginny and Hermione had finally gotten him to Diagon Alley during Christmas leave, for no other reason than to get them off his back.

Ron clapped him on the shoulder when they reached Madam Malkin’s, and with a quick farewell led both of their girlfriends further down the street towards the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. With a resigned heave of breath, Harry pushed open the door and stepped inside.

There was a man at the back, being fitted for a new cloak, the cowl over his head. It was a beautiful looking piece, not that Harry was overly interested, or given much opportunity for admiration. Madam Malkin had been circling the man, spotted him, and instantly abandoned her customer to rush over.

 “Mr Potter!” she gasped, bowing a little and pressing his hand, before drawing him towards the fitting area. “I haven’t seen you in months, come, dear, come...”

Harry climbed on the step next to the other man, embarrassed. He kept his gaze on the floor and tried to pretend he wasn’t there as Madam Malkin bustled about him, chattering with polite awe. Harry made a few vague noises whenever she stopped to draw breath.

“Excuse me a moment, dear...” she said presently, and hurried to the back of the shop to gather a selection of fabrics for Harry to choose from. He groaned once she was out of ear shot, and rubbed a tired hand across his creased forehead.

“Potter,” said a painfully familiar voice beside him.

Harry’s head snapped up, cricking painfully as he turned to face the pale, pointed expression sneering at him from beneath the dark hood. His teeth grit hard. “Malfoy,” he responded, his tone a mix of defensive tension.

Draco’s face was blank and cool, casting an assessing grey gaze over him. “You’re looking well, Potter.”

Harry nearly fell off his step. He peered at Draco through his glasses, so astonished that he simply could not reply at all.

Draco turned away again, facing forwards. His voice was low and raspy when he spoke, hurrying to get the words out before Madam Malkin returned. “I never thanked you for saving my life. In May. It is certainly not something I would ever have expected you to do. Uh. So, thank you, Potter.”

Harry could hear Madam Malkin rummaging, so he spat out a reply quickly, without thinking. “I would always save you. And you did the same for me.”

Draco glanced at him again, still cooly appraising. Something flickered in his eyes, too fast for Harry to read, but it made his heart bound in his chest and his pulse quickened. A different type of tension blossomed between them, and Harry caught his breath in a hurried gasp.

Draco said, “Yes, I did.” His tone was even, but his eyes were desperate as he glanced around to make sure Madam Malkin wasn’t yet in earshot. Harry heard a muffled sound of triumph from the store room; Draco must have heard it too, because he said in a rush, “Will you meet me when you’re done here?”

There was no time to think about how he should feel or what he should do. Harry hadn’t seen Draco in months. Things had never felt finished between them. “Yes,” he said. “Where?”

Draco’s eyes flickered again, his mouth twitched when he answered, “Knockturn Alley. There’s a store there, abandoned: Borgin and Burkes. You’ll find it-“

“I know it,” Harry said, not missing the narrowed surprise in Draco’s eyes. Madam Malkin burst back into the room, reams of fabric levitating all around her.

“I’ll wait for you,” Draco whispered, and then they were silent, staring straight ahead of them as their fittings continued.

 

l-l

 

**Knockturn Alley. Borgin and Burkes.**

Harry was shaking when he magicked open the door of the abandoned store. It had been a long time since he’d been down Knockturn Alley, but he had no trouble finding it.

Draco was sitting on the counter, looking nothing at all like the proper, elegant boy he remembered from school. This was Draco away from his family’s influence, after the trauma, a different man. One of his legs was jigging, the heel of his shoe rapping repeatedly against the counter front.

He slid down, idly brushing at his expensive robes. “You actually came,” Draco said flatly. “I wondered if you would.”

“So did I,” Harry said, eyeing him apprehensively. “I’m not really sure why I did.”

Draco stepped closer. “Because you know. We both know.”

Harry was nervous. He stalled. “Know ... what?”

Draco moved nearer still. Harry could smell his cologne, the lemon fragrance of his hair. He stood his ground, even though every atom of his being was desperate to back away, to throw the door open and escape back up the Alley. His friends were waiting for him.

Draco stopped just in front of him. They were at most a foot apart, and Harry’s body pulsed with awareness. Draco squinted at him, head tipped slightly. “I actually wanted to be your friend you know. Back in first year. You wouldn’t shake my hand.”

Harry blinked, surprised. “You reminded me of my cousin.”

Draco sneered. “Well, that’s insulting. I have read about your life, Potter.”

“Most of what you read is lies,” Harry retorted.

“But you were always there,” Draco continued, jumping back to the original conversation. “Lurking. Not just at school. In my mind.”

Harry caught his breath. Draco was right there in front of him, so close. He could feel the heat radiating from his chest. He grit his teeth, feeling the old frustration bubbling up inside of him, the knee-jerk cover they both used every time. Yes, he knew.

“I know.”

“I know you do, Potter,” Draco murmured, inching closer. “Because you’re my mirror. Because it’s always been exactly the same. But I didn’t realise it until I saved your life.”

“I don’t think I did, either. In the Fiendfyre...”

“Mm,” Draco stood still, confident, so desperately _present_. “Like your Weasley girl’s hair.”

Harry’s hand twitched. Draco’s lips were turned in an ironic pout, grey eyes burning into green. “Forget about her.”

“Wish that I could,” Draco drawled, petulant. “But she got you, didn’t she?”

Harry’s heart was pounding, rattling against his ribcage. “Not right now. Haven’t we waited long enough?”

“ _Yes_.”

They lunged at each other the same moment, bodies colliding in frantic need, desire to touch, to feel, to press as one and _be_ together. Harry’s cheek scraped across Draco’s, his hands trailing down his hard, lean back. He breathed in his scent, closer and stronger than he’d ever known it. Pale hair ruffled against his cheek. He heard Draco’s whisper, “How long do we have?”

“Not long enough ... they’re waiting for me.”

“Potter...” Draco’s face turned, his mouth seeking out Harry’s, closing over Harry’s lips with surprising gentleness, but still desperately hungry, a needy merging of mouths, and tongues, and hot, sweet wetness. Harry met his touch, eagerly following every movement. They fit together as well as he’d always hoped, familiar physical angles moulding against him with a strangeness that was achingly right. The tension that had been growing between them all their lives, which had changed from enmity to desire somewhere uncertain over their school years ... it was unravelling and moving and reforming, wrapping around them and locking them tight together.

Harry drew away first, an involuntary whimper echoing up Draco’s throat as they shifted slightly apart, his lips pouting, asking for more. “I need more than this,” Harry said, tipping their foreheads together, the rim of his glasses nudging against Draco’s brow.

The pale man reared back, his eyes deliciously shadowed with desire, his face sharp and determined. “So do I,” he hissed, hands sliding down Harry’s back and gripping his hips, butting his own forwards. Harry rasped in a sharp breath, feeling the unmistakeable press of that need nudging against his own. Suddenly, he was harder than he’d ever been before in his life, and when he grabbed Draco’s face between both palms and pressed their mouths back together, the tenderness between them was replaced by years of repressed passion.

Draco’s fingers tore at the buttons on Harry’s muggle shirt, popping them clumsily. He groaned, moving his hands to the curve of Draco’s back, pulling him closer and grinding their cocks together with slow circles. Too much fabric lay between them, but Draco’s whimper told him it was still good. Cool fingers traced across his hot chest, and trailed down his belly towards his waistband. His prick throbbed.

“Yes, please,” Harry groaned into Draco’s mouth, his words swallowed eagerly. Then elegant fingers were working on his flies, romance lost deep beneath surging lust. A hand slipped inside his boxers, and wrapped firm and sure around his cock. A surge of pure longing threatened to undo him right then. “A-a-ah...” Harry’s head tipped to the side as a keening groan tore from somewhere deep inside him. He nestled his face in the crook of Draco’s neck as the hand tightened around his cock and tugged upwards with agonising slowness.

Harry fumbled with his glasses, pushing them up onto his forehead, and turned to press hot, sloppy kisses against the delicate skin of Draco’s neck. Sweat and musk mingled in his nostrils; Harry breathed deep, his hand trailing down Draco’s chest and fiddling with the closure on his robes, pulling it open and pushing the cloth back.

Harry ran his tongue along Draco’s clavicle, tasting him, salty and beautiful. He raked his fingers over the ripples of Draco’s abdomen, twisting his fingertips in the soft curls peeking above the waistband of his green briefs. Abruptly, he dropped to his knees, grunting with disappointment as Draco’s hand fell away from his cock.

He yanked the briefs down, murmuring his appreciation as Draco’s prick pinged free, standing ready for him, thicker than he had imagined such a lean man might sport. He licked his kiss-swollen lips, and glanced up, quickly, knowing he didn’t need permission but seeking it all the same.

Draco wobbled, his knees flexing. He snatched at his wand, Summoning an old desk, which scraped across the room and settled in a puff of dust behind him. He pressed back into it, his hands carding into Harry’s untameable hair. “Potter,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe and simple sweetness that churned within Harry’s heart. “Have you...?”

Harry smiled. “A few times. In sixth year. With Seamus.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Huh.”

Harry laughed, his breath ghosting over Draco’s swollen flesh. It bobbed, and Draco shuddered, his breathing a little ragged. Harry licked his lips again, wetting his mouth and then he pressed forwards, closing his lips around the soft glans of Draco’s penis, and slid his mouth along the length, quick and careful.

“Fuck, Potter...” Draco moaned and arched into him, hips canting forward as his grip tightened in Harry’s hair. “By Merlin, yes, this is...”

Harry hummed his agreement and Draco swore and bucked and Harry chuckled deep in his throat as he drew back, sucking slowly, sealing his lips around the head and spiralling his tongue around it, tasting the salty-sourness blooming at the slit, before sliding deep again. Harry wrapped one hand around the base, pressed firm against the hard plane of Draco’s pelvis, and gripped himself with his other, stroking himself in time to the glide of his mouth.

It didn’t take long for Draco to become an ecstatic, babbling puddle, his hands a death grip in Harry’s hair, his hips rocking with a pulsing rhythm. Harry sucked him deep and steady, toying the tender head with soft, broad strokes of his tongue. Draco was swearing, mumbled curses wrapped around Harry’s name, his breath becoming shallow and ragged, until his hands dragged Harry close and his hips spasmed.

Harry timed his sucks with the hot thrusts, drinking every last drop until Draco trembled and breathed again, “Oh, Potter, Potter...” he said, like a prayer. Harry swallowed, once, twice, then carefully drew back. He put gentle pressure on Draco’s hips, and the older man glanced down, looking delightfully shagged, before slowly crumpling to the ground next to him.

Draco reached out, and brushed a finger against Harry’s bottom lip, languid and graceless. A frown creased his flushed, damp brow. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t warn you or anything...”

Harry leant in, nuzzled Draco’s ear, pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses down his neck. “I knew. It’s fine. I wanted to.”

Draco swallowed, and Harry felt the tremor of his throat beneath his lips. “Wow... but what about..?”

Harry grinned and leaned back. “Care to give me a hand?”

“Yes,” Draco said, smiling in return, an open, relaxed gesture that Harry realised with a searing jolt he’d never seen aimed at him before. Draco moved close quickly, reaching to kiss him deeply as he slipped his hand between Harry’s thighs. His tongue slid across Harry’s, murmuring wondrously when he tasted himself there, and he crooned against Harry’s lips, “ _Oh_ , yes...”

Their two hands wrapped together around Harry’s prick, hard and throbbing. He’d never felt such all-consuming desire, burning inside every inch of him. The pure reciprocation of Draco, his taste, his smell, his hard body ... it took Harry far less time than he would have ever admitted, as Draco’s tongue laved against his own, and deft fingers stroked and rubbed, and he spilled hot and heavy across Draco’s knuckles. He gasped and shuddered as satiation washed through him, amazed when another surge of arousal coursed through him as he watched Draco lift his hand. With a curious expression, he sucked them into his mouth, licking them clean and sighing contentedly as he swallowed and then reached out for Harry again.

They sat, a little awkwardly but relaxed and sedate, wrapped around each other. Draco’s heartbeat thudded against Harry’s chest. He ran his fingers through damp, silky hair, across a hard, sweat-slick back, revelling in the few moments of afterglow.

“I wish things had been different,” Draco muttered after a while, squeezing Harry tight against him.

Harry thought briefly of Ginny; pushed her from his mind as a small wash of guilt threatened him. “So do I.”

“You’re utterly remarkable,” Draco said, burrowing his nose into Harry’s unruly black locks. “I wish we had more time.”

A hard pang hit Harry’s chest. He drew on his Gryffindor courage, the words spilling out of him in a rush. “We can. Another day... we can meet again. If it’s what you want.”

“Hm,” Draco breathed deeply, ruffling Harry’s hair. “It is. When? Where?”

 

l-l

 

**1999\. New Year’s.  London. The Leaky Cauldron.**

Harry was glad the celebrations were over. He was gladder still that he had another week before he returned to training. It had been ten days since he had met Draco in Madam Malkin’s, just before Christmas. The memories had spurred his libido into overdrive, but it somehow felt dishonest to be with Ginny when it was a fantasy of Draco in his head.

He walked into The Leaky Cauldron from Diagon Alley, his Invisibility Cloak wrapped tightly around him. Draco had a room. He had sent him an owl, which had cleverly arrived at Grimmauld Place while Harry was alone, an infrequent occurrence what with Ron staying with him during their training, and Ginny and Hermione and George, among others, visiting often.

The desire between them when Harry pushed open Draco’s door and flung off his Cloak was electric and immediate, no time for words as mouths and hands searched and suckled and touched and tasted.

Afterwards, tangled in the sheets of the old, but remarkably comfortable, posted bed, Draco brushed his thumb against Harry’s scar and said, “Finnegan, huh?”

Harry grunted. “We were both jealous. Dean and Ginny were dating.”

Draco said nothing, but his eyes glinted a little. “Speaking of... where do we go from here?”

Harry stalled, playing dumb. “In terms of sex? Well, Malfoy, when two men are in bed together –“

“Shut it, Potter,” Draco snapped, but his mouth quirked with a smile. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Harry stared at Draco’s chest, vaguely tracing the network of scars he’d put there in his ignorance. It seemed so long ago, but the pure horror he’d felt in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom came back as if it had been yesterday. “I don’t know. I’d like to... but there’s a lot to consider.”

“I won’t give you up easily, Potter,” Draco said, fingers sliding down, trailing over Harry’s neck, down his shoulder, finding the scars on his forearm and looping over those, too. “I’m too used to getting what I want. Anyway, I need you. You saved my life.”

“I will always save you, Malfoy,” Harry murmured, sliding closer to push his mouth against the pulse point beneath Draco’s jaw. He sucked carefully, relishing the musk of Draco’s skin. “I need you, too.”

Draco sighed, his body uncoiling a deep tension. He reached for Harry again, and pressed his stirring arousal forwards. Harry moved, seeking his mouth, more than desire between them, some deep, intangible feeling that would not pass, Harry was sure, not ever.

They had never needed words to understand each other, only to hide behind. They didn’t need words now. They only needed each other, fate sealed with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo... I don't write Drarry ... uh, ever really. Must be well over ten years since I wrote one. Probably 'cause I tend to ship Dramione. Anyway, this idea came to me and wouldn't leave me alone, so here it is! And I can't deny the sexual tension between these two hot heads is straight-up (gay-up?) legit.
> 
> I left the ending open so you can canon or EWE as you like.
> 
> You came for the Drarry, but please stay for the Wolfstar. ;)


End file.
